


Lightyear Groovin'

by Tarredion



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 70s music, Alcohol, Alien Character(s), Alien Planet, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Co-workers, DJ Phil, Dancing, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Inspired by Music, Jealousy, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Swearing, Waiter Dan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:53:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23245072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarredion/pseuds/Tarredion
Summary: In a galaxy far, far away, there’s an abundance of 70s clubs. On Krithoo, local party freak Dan Howell works as a waiter at an often overcrowded cantina, Virgo Volans. And maybe, just maybe, has an infatuation with the extraterrestrial dj frequenting their stage.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 12
Kudos: 29
Collections: phandomficfests: escape from reality





	Lightyear Groovin'

**Author's Note:**

> fic flash fest prompts: au, anything but fic  
> -  
> text within [...] are song lyrics  
> -  
> Krithoo is an entirely made up planet, and does not actually exist in the star wars universe..  
> -  
> see playlist here:
> 
> <https://tarredion.tumblr.com/post/613044789886271488/playlist-for-lightyear-groovin>  
> 

_ [...Rainbow girl, whiskey man, spotting every star they can...] _

Krithoo, like many other places across the galaxy, has an abundance of clubs and bars, many dedicated to earth music. The most popular theme by far is the 70s, popular enough so that the intergalactic radio stations play mostly disco songs from that era.

As dusk falls across the dunes and the forests outside the city of Izhine Mido, the streets within its tall, looming walls light up. Neon signs, in all the colours of the rainbow, sparkle above the streets, beaming from obnoxious signs holstered high above the ground.

The crowds that fill the street during the day filter out while the sun sets, tinting the metallic buildings bright and red. 

_ [...underneath them neon signs, on sunset, on sunset. Sunset people, doin’ it right night after night...] _

The people that don’t go home, or have none, fill up the bars along both the main street and within each and every alleyway. The city bursts at the seams, with both clubs and partygoers, from between such unruly hours like eight o'clock and five am. But to their credit, they only want a fun time, right?

At the very least, the varied bunch crowding cantina and clubhouse Virgo Valans through most of its open hours and nights does. The staff works overtime, many nights, and with rigor, to satisfy their customers. They’re also regarded as one of the best choices for music lovers. 

The entrance to the club is as normal as it can be in a technologically advanced Empire-run estate. 

Small windows and bright neon signs on the grey and metallic front vet out into a plaza. There’s one big set of shutter doors, and to their left a small, concealed, and dark alleyway leads down the side of the building to the back, where the workers can enter. Dirt litters the ground, but most of the streets in the city are filthy, so no one bats an eye.

On the inside, the air is quite clean compared to other cantinas, due to the ban on smoking. Instead, strobe lights fill it, and the slight smell of sweet perfume.

The grey walls are covered in arrangements of posters, and the long bar stocked up with hundreds of glasses and bottles. Above it hangs a chandelier, to the right a door leads to the back, and the gate to the left leads out into the open dining area. Square tables in their dozens litter the floor, almost overflowing the space before the dancefloor. And above that stands the stage.

The stage from which the dj controls the sound of the club, keeping up its reputation as the most time-true 70s club in the system.

A well deserved title, if the managing waiter, Dan Howell, can say so himself. 

_ [...Sunset people, doin’ it right night after night. Holdin’ on to the last breath of life, on sunset, on sunset...] _

⁂

Saturday night’s are always busy, with Dan having to slave away from arrival ‘til the last guest leaves the dancefloor. He despises nights like these, when he’s out of breath constantly, never able to rest, and unable to spare a hot minute for breaking it on the dancefloor. Not even for the opening song, which is an absolute travesty for any party animal.

He can, however, sneak glances at the hot dj while rushing about. Sometimes he does it even when he’s taking his orders, if the customer isn’t an azumel with six erratic, bulging eyes.

Eyes. 

The dj, Phil, who goes by the nickname Pisces, has beautiful eyes. Though Dan has never been off his home planet, he knows that the vastness of deep blue space could never compete with Phil’s eyes. The colours that occupy and streak through his irises drown out the brightest of stars, even the sound of the crowd around him. Even if there’s yet to be a crowd, there will be, judging by the restless shouting coming from outside, only drowned by sound coming from above.

_ [... _ _ Let's show the world we can dance, bad enough to strut our stuff. The music gives us a chance, we do more out on the floor... _ _ ] _

The prelude music blaring, he picks up a glass and a dirty towel. There are no orders to take, obviously, not until the doors open, and so he’s got to tend to his other duties as a waiter. That includes picking up the slack of the barman, his boss, and scrubbing down the cutlery. Usually rather poorly, but the Virgo Volans has never been known for its cleanliness.

All the customers are here for a cheap drink, the music, or picking people up. The order doesn’t matter, because it’s usually all three. They’re not located in some classy, snobby neighbourhood after all. At least they’re not in the slums, teeming with criminal activity and trafficking, even if they do get their fair share of troublemakers.

Per standard procedure, Dan swirls the rag in and out of the bowl, careful not to crack the fragile rim. These glasses have seen some years, and he’s broken enough in his time that he knows the repercussions well.

Dan watches the dj-stand for a moment, still scrubbing but lousily, fascinated by the flinkness of Phil’s fingers as they run across the soundboard. Black hair swishes across his face, and his tongue peaks through his teeth in concentration. It’s rather cute, as always, he thinks, and he can feel a small, lopsided smile tug on his lips. A smile he wouldn't have known about hadn't Phil pointed it out to him.

_ [ _ _...We’re bumpin’ booties, havin’ us a ball, y’all... _ _ ] _ __

In the three months since he got hired, Phil’s been working his (incredible) ass off, and it’s done him good. Like he shows now, he’s perfected their setup, despite coming from a background with more advanced technology at hand. And the customers love him, gaining him praise in thousands each night, and contributing greatly to the collective salary of all the employees. 

He’s certainly more suited for the job than their last dj, who ran off with one of Dan’s ex-coworkers only a week after he got his job. He had no passion for music, nor the state of the cantina, but woo girls, that he could do.

And it seemed like it was all he wanted to do, considering his dramatic exit with the bartender. Wherever they are in the galaxy now, separately or together, Dan wishes her well. She was the nicest out of all of them, before Phil set foot in his life, arriving from a distant planet. 

_ [ _ _...Shake your groove thing, shake your groove thing, yeah, yeah, show 'em how we do it now. Shake your groove thing, shake... _ _ ] _

The beat shakes Dan’s whole body, and as he picks up a second glass to clean, he taps his foot to the beat. He’s got to admit, as he watches him fiddle with the settings of the speakers, that he has the best music taste of any dj in town.

And _ then _ Phil’s head turns, locking their gazes together. 

For a moment Dan simply stands there, muscles seizing up. He’s frozen on the spot, with his breath in his throat, heart thumping hard against his ribs, and the glass slipping from his lax fingers. Phil’s eyes flame, piercing through the strobe neon lights, having caught him off guard. 

The look in Phil eyes is almost searching, inquiring, but so strong and powerful that he trembles beneath it. His knees practically buckle beneath his own weight, and he’s glad he’s stood behind the counter, for otherwise Phil would’ve surely laughed at him.

_ [ _ _...There’s nothing more that I’d like to do, than take the floor and dance with you... _ _ ] _

Then, after a couple long, agonizing seconds, his name is called. Without another thought, Dan swivels on the spot, practically sprinting through the sliding door. Into the back rooms, with his face flushed and his knuckles whitening, he follows the sound of his boss’ demanding voice.

Caught. Again; he really needs to learn the art of subtlety.

⁂

The night has come further along, about four hours into Dan’s shift. The doors have been opened, the dancefloor is alive, the crowd buzzing, and the only thing keeping him sane and going is the sparkle in Phil’s deep eyes.

“Pisces, play Lovin’ Or Livin’ again!” a Chagrian shouts above the last notes of  _ Have Mercy On The Criminal _ , almost immediately interrupted by her friend, a bright blue male.

“It’s actually Lovin’ Or Leavin’- and he shan’t, for he’ll play Blondie’s Call Me!”

“Shut up, Cal! It’s Lovin’ Or Leavin’ or nuthing.”

As a fist connects with the first Chagrain’s face, one of their unbothered tablemates stands up. Ignoring the tumult occuring by her side as the bouncer drags the troublemaking pair outside, she loudly, but brokenly, proclaims: “Dj, how ‘bout that one ‘bout many heartbreaks and- and- an’ stuff...”

“Heartache no. 9?” Phil’s voice calls out from the stands. He’s grinning ear to ear at the attention, and the enthusiasm. Despite the excess of sweat rolling down his face, and gluing his suit to his skin, which makes Dan cringe, his positivity never waivers an inch. As always, his gleeful, quirky self.

“Yeah, tha’ one!” she happily laughs, and the glimmer in her eye almost makes Dan’s stomach churn. 

“On it, frienderino.”

Dan forcibly turns his gaze away as the song starts, knowing full well he shouldn’t get so worked up over a simple, professional exchange. It’s all part of Phil’s job, and he can’t even claim Phil’s as his, if such a situation would arise. Yet, anyways. 

When it’ll stop being a  _ yet _ and become a  _ yes _ is up to debate. He’s got a hard time gathering his courage, if that wasn’t made obvious by the three solid months consisting of on-the-job flirting, and nothing more.

_ [ _ _ Look out, look out, here it comes, heartache no. 9... _ _ ] _

Eyes boring into the sleek metal of the counter, Dan lazily polishes one of the taps made of chrome. 

It doesn’t really need polishing, but he won’t notice. His mind is somewhere else, in a universe where he can simply walk up to Phil right now, and crash their lips together. Show the other suitors who really deserves a place in Phil’s life, who has his love, and who is dear in his heart.

_ [...look out, here it comes, heartache no. 9. I believe, it’s gonna get me this time...] _

He wishes he could. 

More than anything, as he watches Phil swaying to the song up there on the stage, glowing beneath the lights. His pale pastel skin reflects each colour that hits it, and with a single shuddering breath Dan imagines himself reaching out and touching that glimmering cheek. That he’d be allowed in, and allowed to do so, greeted heartily.

“Dan?”

Of course only wishful thinking, Dan knows, the words running bitter on his tongue but quickly swallowed down as he turns to Agia, his accompanying Arcona waitress. 

“Yeah? What di’ you want?” he asks, slurring very, very slightly. She tilts her head at him; despite not having more than one drink, since he’s strictly on duty, he’s still a lightweight, and therefore tipsy. 

_ [ _ _...I’ve got sick on heartache no.7... _ _ ] _

Putting one gentle hand on his sweaty arm, her brightly yellow eyes flicker between his face and Phil’s. 

_ [ _ _...just got over heartache no. 8... _ _ ] _

Dan can’t help but groan, only just about stopping his own from rolling into the back of his head. “I know what you’re gonna say, I knooow, Agi!” Her wrinkled face scrunches up even more, glaring at him.

“No, you don’t!” she quips, taking the rag from his hand with a snapping wrist. “I won’t suggest that you try and ask him out, because I know that you’ll just avoid me for the rest of the night and just- just  _ won’t _ . So instead, Howell, I’m giving you a break. But,  _ and hear me out before you walk out on me _ , only if you promise that you go up and ask him for a dance!”

“ _ Ask him for a dance _ ?” Dan gasps, stopping with half his leg out from behind the bar, his neck seizing up. He’d never ever be brave enough to do that. And it has nothing to do with his skills.

Dan knows he’s a good dancer, but when he’s tipsy his moves are rather.. provocative. And there’s absolutely no way that he’ll let himself be within five feet of Phil while in that state. Phil can watch him on the floor from a distance, and he has before, but never, ever will he lose his dignity by risking grinding up on him.

He pivots his head, scanning the stage and the floor for that familiar tuft of black hair. His heart almost catches in his throat when he finds it.

_ [ _ _...forgetting you was heartache no. 8. Look out, look out, here it comes... _ _ ] _

Despite fumbling hands and fringe falling in his eyes, Phil struts up towards the bar with surprising confidence. Face burning beneath the gaze of his multicolored eyes, Dan glances towards Agia with a fearful look, but she just smirks gleefully. 

Turning her back on him and returning to work, she leaves him to his worst and best nightmare, like trembling prey.

The lump only grows in his throat as Phil approaches, a small smirk visible upon his gorgeous face once he reaches the bar. Dan is still stood frozen, halfway in the act of running away, almost trembling from head to toe, and each part of his brain screaming out for him to run. Well, except for the one dreamily fluttering its eyelashes at the dj leaning against the counter, whose cheekbones are shining, and long, flink fingers playing with a rugged coin. They’re very good fingers, mind you-

Dan swallows hard as Phil looks up at him, tongue strung between his pristine teeth. “One Phattro, booze free and with ice please.” he says, and, fortunately for him, the first thought in Dan’s head is a phrase as basic as:  _ oh, so not the usual, then? _

“Yeah, of course..” Dan mumbles, desperately and frantically fumbling around for a glass. He can hear Phil giggling in the background, the sound echoing in his ears, louder than any of the music or chattering around them.

At last he finds one, and even if it’s a footed pilsner glass, it’ll have to do. Pulling it out from the underhang shelf, he grimaces at Phil, who’s soft smile in response does nothing but make his head more doozy. 

He’s so,  _ so _ fucked. And it feels so much worse now that alcohol is running through his veins. It exaggerates the feeling to the max.

_ [ _ _ Take me on a journey, on a journey to the centre of your heart. Let me make the journey, wanna journey to the centre of your heart... _ _ ] _

He pours half the bottle of bright purple Phattro into the glass, biting his lip in concentration. If there’s one thing he doesn’t want to do due to his drunkenness and nervous, fumbling fingers, then it’s to ruin his own night and have to stay late to scrub the bar again. 

_ [ _ _...Baby, wanna travel, wanna travel ‘cross the borders of your mind... _ _ ] _

“Drinking on the job, huh?” he asks, and mimics a concealing motion with the glass. He winks before he slides it across the counter, the money trading hands within the same breath. He tries his best to not think of the touch of Phil’s fingertips, but it permeates in his brain, tingles sparking up his arm. “Didn’t think we allowed the handsome dj to also work the floor while drunk?”

“I’m a big boy, Danny, I can handle my alcohol.”

Forcing his gaze down, Dan mumbles beneath his breath: “Yeh, I guessed you were big..” 

His face flushes as soon as he realizes it wasn’t quiet enough. Put it down for him to be embarrassing  _ and _ revealing while flirting!

Laughter bubbles from Phil’s pink lips, radiating into Dan’s body like warm beams of light. The sound makes him feel light and airy, almost high, like he could float away at any moment. In his own throat, a chuckle builds, but he’s only able to force out a strained choke before he breaks into a wide smile. This always happens to him while looking at the ethereal embodiment of Phil, the loss of breath, and everything else.

He’s fucked.

_[_ _...Take me on a journey, on a journey to the bottom of your soul. I wanna go..._ _]_

Absolutely fucking screwed. And there’s nothing he can do but let the warmth sipper into his heart. 

⁂

_ [ _ _...Don’t blame it on the sunshine, don’t blame it on the moonlight... _ _ ] _ __

Dan still has to take a few more orders after Phil’s, leaving them both to go back to work, because as not-his-boss, Agia can’t actually just let him go on the floor and dance. Not even in the name of love, or whatever she always attributes it to.

He’s relieved, by the time he’s done and has successfully avoided asking Phil up, but only to a certain degree. 

_ [ _ _...That dirty rhythm moves me, the devil’s gotten me through this dance. I’m all funky fever, a fire burns inside me, boogie’s got me in a super trance... _ _ ] _

He’s now on his third drink, the glass half-empty and propped up on the counter, and he can feel a scowl growing upon his face as he watches other people enthusiastically chatting with  _ him _ at the dj stand. Some even offer their hand, clearly trying to initiate a dance, but Phil refuses with a vehemently shake of his head. Each time.

At least he has something to be glad over. No one’s about to steal his man tonight.

_ [ _ _...Ain’t nobody’s fault but yours, and that boogie, dancin’ all night long... _ _ ] _

Fingers drumming on the board, Dan tries to wipe the frown off by taking another sip of his drink. The bitter liquid burns as it runs down his throat, and all he can think of then is the jealousy burning in his gut, and what Phil’d say if he saw the beverage he’s chosen. 

_ Too salty, no sugar!? Dan, you must be bloody insane!  _

Yes, yes he must be bloody insane, for he makes his mind up, just as the next song starts. He downs the rest of the bright yellow drink, then staches the empty glass away with a single glance around the room.

_ [ _ _ I believe in miracles. Where you from, you sexy thing? Sexy thing, you. I believe in miracles, since you came along... _ _ ] _

With nobody there to stop him, and no customers in sight, he slips off his apron and hangs it on a hook below the bar. With a few steady steps, steady enough as he can be with alchol swimming around his tired head, he slips out from behind the bar and wobbly setting his feet in the direction of  _ Phil _ . 

_ [ _ _...How did you know I’d give my heart gladly? Yesterday I was one of the lonely people. Now you’re lying close to me, making love to me... _ _ ] _

Dan pushes through the crowd, moving across the dancefloor and dodging tables filled with drunken aliens of all kinds. He’s got his mind set on only one thing, one goal, and he pays no mind to the disapproving grunts that echo around him.

_ [ _ _...Where you from, you sexy thing? Sexy thing, you. I believe in miracles, since you came along, you sexy thing. Where did you come from, angel? How did you know I’d be the one?... _ _ ] _ __

His breath forces itself out of his lungs as he approaches the dj, and once he’s on the way up the stairs of the stage, his mind catches up. He’s about to do  _ this _ . He really is.

Oh, christ.

_ [ _ _...Every day, needing love as satisfaction. Now you’re lying next to me, giving it to me... _ _ ] _

The lights overhead sinks everything around Phil into half-darkness, and so slightly concealed, Dan approaches.

A wide smile tugs on Phil’s lips, his hair clamming to his forehead. Sweat rolls down his temples, exaggerating the glittering look, and as he comes closer, Dan can see the thin outline of each bead.

He looks beautiful.

He looks so breathtaking, that Dan’s overbearing brain is unsure if he wants to spin him into his arms more than he wants to kiss him.

“Do you like the song?” Phil half-shouts over the music as he passes into the spotlight. He sways to the beat, and Dan can’t help but to smile at him as he nods. He looks, well, adorable, excitement glimmering in his eyes and exuding from his every breath.

_ [ _ _...Oh, kiss me, you sexy thing... _ _ ] _ __

With a single, shuddering breath of his own, eyes trained on Phil’s wide pupils, Dan reaches forward and takes Phil’s hands off the soundboard. They’re sweaty and smooth and slightly smaller than his own, and they slide into his gentle grasp with such ease that you’d think they do this every free moment, waking or not. 

_ [ _ _...Touch me, baby, you sexy thing... _ _ ] _

Linking their fingers together, he asks without the use of words:  _ dance with me? _

And Phil takes the hint.

Like two puzzle pieces, they slot together and begin to lazily traverse the floor.

_ [ _ _...I love the way you touch me, darling, you sexy thing. Oh it’s ecstasy, you sexy thing... _ _ ] _

Dan doesn’t even try to ignore the meaning of the lyrics, the blatancy of the words pounding in his ears. He’s too immersed in the closeness of Phil’s body, trying his best to not trip over his feet.

Heart pounding hard and fast in his chest, Phil’s smile swishing in and out of view as he spins him around, the heat of the moment begins to crawl beneath his skin. He can feel all the eyes down in the cantina burn as they look upon them, stinging him.

But right now he couldn’t care. He’s got Phil, here, and while his sobered brain might regret reveling in the intimacy of the moment, he won’t ponder upon it.

_ [ _ _...Oh, touch me. Kiss me, darling. I love the way you hold me, baby. Oh, it’s ecstasy... _ _ ] _

⁂

The thickness in the air and the golden light touching the highest buildings signal the coming of dawn. Dan huffs and puffs as he moves the last of the chairs into the back, carrying three at a time to get it over with as quickly as possible. He’s got a slight headache creeping over him, a testament to his hungover.

Agia and the boss left long ago, and by the lacking sight of Phil, he assumes he’s gone home, too. It’s a bit of a relief, seeing how he ‘behaved’, but it stings, too.

He carries yet another chair behind the bar and through the shutter door, gasping for air. As he drops it to the floor there’s a sudden cough behind him, and with his heart in his throat, he jumps up.

Phil’s lopsided, nervous smirk greets him.

“You scared the living daylights out of me!” Dan scolds, though he won’t deny the happy feeling melting into his bones.

A light blush tints Phil’s high, pale cheekbones, and he brings one finger up to twirl his fringe around. Yet another sign that he’s jittery, and Dan can’t decide if it’s more cute or puzzling. “Sorry ‘bout that..”

There’s a pause as neither one of them speak up. Dan tries to force down the words in his throat, quickly replacing them with a hard, torturing lump. His eyes fly erratically around the room, from the floor to the ceiling to the dim lights, and most importantly, Phil’s brightly blue eyes. They look so soft and vulnerable, almost doe-like, and as he gazes into them, Dan can feel his heartbeat slow. There’s a certain comfort, in having him here, despite how embarrassing he acted while drunk.

“I-” Phil begins, and as he forces his own gaze away, Dan’s head floods with emotion. “I, um, wanted to ask you something..”

For a second, there’s a glimmer of hope in his eyes. Then, as it disappears, Dan feels the whole world dim. There’s a real sadness echoing within the irises, and for a few moments nothing but the  _ fear of losing  _ screams out to Dan, telling him it’s all over.

“What..?”

It’s gone in a flash, however, as Phil softly asks; “Did.. did you mean everything you’ve said over the last three months?”

Swallowing down every other urge, Dan reaches out and grasps Phil’s hands softly, just in time to stop him from turning on the spot and running. As the terror upon Phil’s face becomes apparent, Dan lets himself go and surrenders, letting the equally terrified smile tugging on his lips melt into a full blown grin.

“I do, Phil, I  _ still _ mean it,” he whispers, voice trembling as it rolls off his tongue. “I’ve meant each word I’ve ever told you. And each gesture.”

“Even.. even tonight?”

“ _ Everything _ . I think-” He hesitates, taking a few seconds to wet his lips and refill his lungs. The smile doesn’t disappear, but it quivers lightly. “I think I might  _ love _ you.”

There’s a beat. 

Then Phil’s arms squeeze him tight, his fingers coming up behind him to rest in his nest of curls. Despite being lax at first, Dan finds himself copying the intense movement, crashing their lips together in the same breath. He runs his hands across Phil’s nape, ruffling his matt hair, and as his eyelids flutter close he can do nothing but drown in the pleasure, the longing finally dissipating. 

Phil tastes of everything from flowers to cheap drinks, but beneath all the layers of sugar and thumping music coating his smooth lips, he’s  _ just _ Phil. And that’s the best sensation Dan could’ve ever wished for, the realness and the authenticity. 

There’s care in each one of his movements, even as his tongue slips in and out of Dan’s mouth, and his teeth tug on his bottom lip. Their hands nip at each piece of clothing and skin they can reach while still interlocked, bodies grinding together like two bursting flames becoming one, or two black holes merging, sucking up each other’s energy.

When they break apart, Dan’s more out of breath than he’s ever been when dancing, and Phil’s sweating harder than he ever has working the soundboard. There’s faint and nervous laughter bouncing off each wall in the crowded, but generally empty, room. Phil’s signature tongue-between-teeth pops out as he chuckles, eyes erratic and nose flaring as he tries to catch his own breath.

Dan doesn’t let go of his hands, quite yet. He can’t balance on his own, head spinning, but mostly he doesn’t want the sensitive sheath of adoration to break. “So, I suppose that…”

“Yeah..”

“Um- doyoulikemetoophil?”

Phil’s eyebrows raise. “Say that again?” he chuckles lightly, but his hands reassuringly pinch Dan’s fingers.

“Do you likemeback?”

The smile that splits Phil’s face is warm and adoring, brighter than the rays of sun in the backdrop. His hair and skin glitters as the light drowns the room, and the crinkling of his eyes only enhance his beauty. “Well, yes,” he sighs contently, “Think I might love you too, Dan.”

It’s Dan’s turn to smile. With his own grin breaking out again, the jittery feeling spreads from the tips of his fingers down through his toes. His knees shake, and the only way for his trembling, overworked body to gain composure is by leaning his forehead against Phil’s.

“That’s good, then.” he giggles, breathing in his closeness. The pulse on Phil’s wrist beats against his own. “That’s  _ great _ .”

They bask in each other’s nearness, and in the intimacy, not minding the warmth of the sun flooding the city, and as seemingly seconds pass in the vastness of space, years do in their minds. And they’ll gladly spend them all together, outside of their heads, too, when it comes down to it.

Whether that be on this side of the galaxy, or the other. As long as they always have each other, and 70s songs to dance to. Because in the end, love is always better when you’re grooving.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading :3


End file.
